


Syncope

by geezers



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geezers/pseuds/geezers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/9768.html?thread=4701992#t4701992">this</a> prompt in fk2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syncope

Fernando watched as Romelu terrorised the defenders, simply brushing them aside as he charged towards the goal. The young Belgian wasn’t waiting to be fed the ball in the box, he was making his own chances, carving them out of nothing. He was on the wing; he was connecting the midfield to the attack; he was _everywhere_. To put it simply Lukaku was a diamond in the rough, an immense talent. Watching the match put a fire in Fernando’s belly, he knew that when he returned to pre season, he wasn’t only going to be proving himself to a new manager, he was going to have to prove to himself that he was capable of being the team’s first choice striker. 

The six days between the Spaniard watching Chelsea’s second pre season match and when he was due to meet up with the team for the second leg of the tour passed in a blur of drills, core exercises, 5 mile runs before dawn and being put through his paces by his personal trainer.

“You’ve been working yourself down to the bone, honey. Take a rest.” Olalla said, when she stopped at the door of the home gym. She had Leo rested on her hip as she stepped into the room.

Fernando pulled the buds out of his ears, the vapid, thumping house music creating a low hum in the room while he began to slow down the treadmill. “I’ve got to practise my crossing for a while outside before I finish today.” He slowed to a walk.

“Papi,” Leo said making grabby hands towards his father. “Sleepy time. Tuck!” the little boy called, wanting Fernando to tuck him into bed. 

“Of course I will, chico.” Fernando smiled, taking Leo from his wife’s arms, he never could resist his children.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then made a face when she realised his face was covered in sweat. “Your dinner is in the microwave, make sure you eat it when you’re done.” Her tone was stern, but her face was graced with a smile.

“Si señora,” Fernando saluted playfully before leaving for Leo’s room. Olalla slapped Fernando’s bum on the way out and he winked over his shoulder.

 

It was an hour later, when Olalla realised that Fernando hadn’t come down that she went to berate him for going back into the gym. As she stormed up across the landing she came to a halt outside Leo’s room when she noticed that Fernando had fallen asleep with Leo in his arms on their son’s bed. 

Although the next few days carried on the same way, from dawn until dusk, Fernando was either working out or practising his football. On a couple of days that the striker even recruited Juan to come over and run drills together. 

Even when the younger man stopped for lunch, Fernando wouldn’t. He pushed and pushed. He knew he needed to prove himself, to prove his worth to the team. And to do that Fernando needed to build on the mediocre season he’d had before and become the lethal goal scorer he had been previously. 

The beginning of pre season couldn’t have gone any better. Mourinho seemed like a real gentleman, and welcomed Fernando with open arms, giving constructive (never cutting) criticism, offering tips and words of wisdom to the striker daily. Fernando was pumped, he felt more energetic than he ever had before and in that first day’s training, he ran until his legs couldn’t carry him any longer.

“Good work today boys, get some rest. Tomorrow we start all over again!” Jose called, and training was adjourned for the day. 

When the session was over, the other players were talking about going out to take in the local area, but all Fernando could think of was crawling under the covers on his bed and going to sleep. 

“Come on Nando, there’s this club just down the road that everyone’s going to. You know, as a bonding thing seeing as we’re all here now.” Fernando just groaned in response as he fell onto his bed. Juan hung around by the door for a second before walking closer. 

“Are you okay Nando? You look a bit drawn.”

Fernando toed off his adidas trainers that were issued to every player at the beginning of the second leg of the pre season tour and exhaled heavily. “I’m just exhausted, Juan. Tell everyone I’m sorry I’m such an old man, but I really just need to sleep right now.”

The younger man looked conflicted as he looked from his teammate to the door and back again. But eventually after a few seconds, he nodded, bid Fernando a goodnight and left. 

 

“You missed out on a killer night, el viejo!” David laughed when Fernando resurfaced for breakfast the next day. “It was crazy!”

“Crazy? You guys weren’t allowed to drink though.” Fernando said, sipping at a glass of orange juice and disregarding his empty plate in favour of knowing what went down the night before. 

“I know we weren’t, but when you end up in a bar playing Never Have I Ever and then Truth or Dare with pretty much the whole team, things escalate _pretty quickly_.” David went on to tell Fernando about the time Ashley Cole accidentally made out with a man in drag, and how they dared Andre to do a 30 second pole dance on the bar’s conveniently placed stripper pole.

“The place had a stripper pole? What kind of bar were you in?” Fernando asked incredulously.

“Well, we didn’t realise it was there until we were trying to think of a dare for Andre. And you know, he’s a newbie, so we had to think of something memorable. That’s when Gary pointed out the stripper pole.”

“It was awful, they’re all mean!” Andre called from the table next to them when he heard David recalling the story. 

“Hey Andre, what time’s your dance tonight?” Ashley called from another table with JT and Lamps with a devilish grin on his face.

“Just after you get a chance to French another dude!” Andre shot back quick as a whip and the whole team began laughing, Ashley included. 

 

It was only when they returned to the Indianapolis heat that Fernando thought maybe he should have eaten something for breakfast. His legs felt shaky and there was a dull thud at the back of his head. 

“Fernando!” Cesar shouted as he passed him the ball. The striker ran to go and get the ball, but Lucas got there first and stole in from his feet. Fernando carried on running but, had to stop and he rested his hands on his knee, bending over and he began coughing uncontrollably. 

“Nando,” he heard an unfamiliar voice running over to him. “Fernando!” he looked up and noticed that both David and Petr were standing over him. “Eva! Quick!” he called to the first team doctor, and that was all that Fernando could remember before he was enveloped by the blackness. 

 

“I think he’s coming to,” Eva said, still on the training field, luckily for Fernando the session wasn’t open to the media. 

“How are you feeling?” Eva asked, checking on his pulse while she waited for him to answer. 

He tried to sit up, hissing as his body told him to stay still and Eva instructed him to lay down for a while to let his body regain its balance. “I’m pretty sore, truthfully.”

His two teammates now sat beside him on the grass, each of them wearing an identical expression of worry on their face. Fernando noticed that the pitch had ben cleared of all other players and staff.

They let the striker gather himself for a few minutes, David and Juan chatted while Eva busied herself noting down Fernando’s pulse and taking his blood pressure. “Just to make sure it’s nothing serious,” she assured him when his eyes widened at the pressure cuff. 

“How did you get in this state, Fer?” David asked, resting his hand on Fernando’s shoulder.

Fernando pondered for a second, he hadn’t meant to risk his health, he’d just been trying to get back to the top of his game. “I don’t know, I was training really hard, I guess I just didn’t look after myself.”

“That’s right you didn’t!” Eva chastised him. “Fernando, you know this means we have to monitor your food and beverage in take for the next three days.” He knew this was standard procedure for anyone who fainted or felt faint for a prolonged period of time.

“You need to train hard, we all do, but not at the expense of your health, hombre.” David said, a serious tone to the Brazilian’s usually genial voice. 

“I know I do, but I’m so desperate to prove to Jose that I deserve to be in the team, I’ve had two weeks less than Demba and Romelu to show him why I’m worth a place in the team every week.”

“Yes, but you won’t get anywhere near the team if you start passing out all the time because you’re not looking after yourself!” Juan said sternly. 

Fernando immediately felt childlike as his younger teammates were reprimanding him. He realised that there was no way he could be on the top of his game without looking after himself adequately. 

When Eva let him go, with the strict instruction to go and get something to eat and then get some rest, Fernando went up to his room, ordered some room service (pretty much every healthy thing on the menu – and a plate of churros) and awaited his feast. 

Around 40 minutes later, he heard a knock on his door and expected it to be his food, but when Juan breezed past him into his room, Fernando secretly wished it was his food. Although it was less than a minute later when his room service actually arrived. 

“Bon appetite, sir!” the young man said before leaving with a curt nod of his head. 

Fernando could barely stop himself from stuffing his face. After his first proper meal in a while, it didn’t take more than 5 minutes to slip into a food-induced nap. Juan chuckled at his team mate before taking a picture to use as bribing material and leaving the room.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you didn't notice, i suck at endings. i apologise. 
> 
> (also, this hasn't been proofread, so excuse any typos/errors)


End file.
